


Up/Down

by Iknowthebattle



Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017) RPF
Genre: Angst and Feels, Austin Texas, M/M, Sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-13
Updated: 2018-08-13
Packaged: 2019-06-26 16:25:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15666906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iknowthebattle/pseuds/Iknowthebattle
Summary: Prompt: Arnie’s real time reaction to Timmy’s speech in Austin. His emotional roller coaster, his confrontation with Timmy after. ❤️❤️❤️Here’s a little something quick for you dear anon. unedited, written on the fly. x





	Up/Down

Armie kept his back straight, upright in the theater chair, feet flat on the floor; hand over his mouth while he watched Tim from the stage. He was rambling, Armie knew he would, no amount of teasing or straight up asking would get that to change. 

But this was different. 

This was a speech about him. In front of Elizabeth. In front of his Mother. In front of people he had known longer than he had known Timmy in a place he had known longer than Timmy. He was familiar, comfortable, turning every which way and finding something or someone he knew here. 

But he was in a new orbital space now, eyes focused on the figure still speaking; still talking about him. 

Something had shifted in Tim’s body, his voice.

His face had grown serious, lines on his otherwise smooth forehead, swallowing words, head down for just a moment, pointing at Armie but looking straight ahead. Armie knew he couldn’t see anything except for the front row where he was seated; the spotlight was bright.

_But this man…_

Armie closed his eyes.

The room closed in and expanded around him all at once. Armie felt like he could bolt from the chair any moment.

And go where?

Would he rush the stage, tackle; knock Tim over to keep him from talking? Would he cover his mouth with his hand, his own mouth? Would he head for the door, bursting through with both hands, running at full speed down the street lit by neon cowboy boot signs and crooning singers who had given up on Vegas and Nashville?

But he sat there, eyes open again, watching, listening, enthralled, rooted to the earth but floating above the whole fucking thing.

Tim was dressed the part, plaid and combat boots, informal in his Austin uniform. Armie had breathed a sigh of relief that he had forsaken cowboy boots. He was messy but with every detail in place, a lost hipster poet knee deep in BBQ and leather bar stools.

Armie felt someone tugging on his arm, Elizabeth. It was his turn to go up there, to escape the fog, walk out of the mist; see the forest and the trees from his spot on the periphery. There was applause, Tim was clapping too, all smiles for him;  full-on clasped hand applause for him.

Armie felt himself smiling, jogging up the few stairs. His steps were light, clouds and water under his feet.

Tim actually stuck out his hand, Armie easily bypassing his casual bullshit for a hug where his chin rested on Tim’s shoulder. He felt Tim’s long fingers pat his back, hips together, and Armie laughed for no reason, but maybe it meant  _isn’t this the craziest thing….?_

Because Tim laughed too, sharp inhale, deep laugh, hand on his Armie’s back as he passed off the award he took to the podium.

Now he was expected to say something.

And then;  _I’ll have what Armie’s having._

Uncomfortable, confused laughter.

There were drinks, endless drinks afterwards in a room with couches, tables, and a view of flat nightscape on all sides.

Elizabeth worked the room, toasting, cheers everywhere with salty, strong margaritas, so much laughter Armie’s face hurt because most of it was genuine. This was where his worlds collided and wrapped him in the comfortable aftermath.

Tim followed him into the room, a step or two behind, letting Armie lead the way, make the introductions, ease into a circle of familiars with a joke and a nod towards Tim who was standing hands in pockets, a quick head tilt back to pretend to rid himself of a curl over his eye when he said  _hey man!_ _Yeah, so good to meet you!_

Armie watched it all play out, letting himself enjoy this, waiting for a break in the tide to jump in, making sure he didn’t get carried away.

He jumped in, Tim turning on his heel to follow Armie into a narrow hall full of photos from  _Giant_ , Elizabeth Taylor, Rock Hudson, and James Dean, a wall of ghosts.

“Hey.” Armie’s voice was soft, low.

Tim nodded. “Hey.”

“Thank you for coming out here.”

“Yeah man, of course. I owe you one.”

Armie laughed. “You owe me way more than one.”

Tim laughed too, pointed at Armie, fingers in the shape of a gun. “You got me there.”

“Yeah, I do…got ya.”

They both laughed again, vast noises in a narrow corridor.

“How was it up there?” Armie swiped a hand across his chin, looking at Tim.

“Yeah it was good, it was good. I mean…” A scratch on the back of his head, and then;

“Did I sound okay up there? I mean, did I do okay?”

Armie wanted to grab him, shake him, drag him into some dark corner and tell him he said everything and nothing Armie had wanted him to say. He wanted to tell him he didn’t know who he would have asked instead because he didn’t consider anyone else when they asked him who he wanted there and he wasn’t sure what he would have done if Tim had said no.

_Get your ass to Austin…it’s your turn._

And now he was here.

“Yeah, no, it was all good…classic Chalamet.”

Timmy smiled. “Is that a good thing?”

_It’s the best fucking thing._

“Of course it was, it is. Stop thinking so much.”

Timmy shrugged. “It’s what I do best.”

Armie reached out, touched his shoulder, rubbed his collarbone with his thumb, felt Tim lean into it before pushing him back gently.

“Well, I beg to differ and so do about a million other people.”

“Yeah but I don’t care about them.”

Armie understood the rest of that sentence to be  _only you._

His smile was sad. Tim’s hair looked black in the blue moonlight.

“Are you drunk?”

The curls shook, shiny in the light too.

“No, but working on it.”

He looked at Armie now.

“I’m gonna get a lot more chances to do that you know.” He nodded back towards the theater.

Armie felt his chest split open like the earth’s core, lava bubbling over, turning the surface black because there was no place else to put that kind of passion.

He made a noise in his throat, a grateful moan in the place of words.

Tim nodded; wise, intuitive, in love.

“Armie…I know.”

Armie closed his eyes; let his weight fall forward, lifting off his heels, leaning down to rest his chin on the crown of Tim’s head.

Tim wrapped his arms around Armie’s waist, no hand shake or high fives offered; putting his full body against him, and Armie rocked back and forth, a silent see-saw of flesh and bone; going back and forth again, what he did best.

**Author's Note:**

> Iknowthebattle on Tumblr--ask box is open for fic prompts! x


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